13 Reasons
by SaluteMeImLuis
Summary: Two weeks ago, two weeks ago today. John Cena jumped off a building. The news wasn't too much of a shocker. That is, until they were delivered. 13 tapes, to 13 people. All of which had, in one way or another, contributed to his death. Randy's just got them. What now? Rated M for character death and language. Inspired by 13 Reasons Why by Jay Asher.
1. Chapter 1

Title: 13 Reason Why

Summary: Two weeks ago, two weeks ago _today_. John Cena jumped off a building. The news wasn't too much of a shocker. That is, until they were delivered. 13 tapes, to 13 people. All of which had, in one way or another, contributed to his death. Randy's just got them. What now?

A/N: Yes, this will be the final story I write without finishing the others. But this one is basically pretty much already over since I've actually planned this one out completely.

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Chapter 1. Set the Dice

John stood on the edge of the building. So close to the edge, that a slight shuffle would send him spiraling down. His breath hitched in his throat, unable to produce words. His clothes swayed in the wind. About a million thoughts ran through his head, but perhaps the most dominant question of all called to him the most. Was he sure he wanted to do this?

The moment the thought passed through his mind, he was brought to the last few months of his life. Moving from West Newbury to St. Louis to start a new life. That ending horribly. Trying to be a normal kid, that ended terribly. Finding true love, that didn't happen. Being happy, yeah, that failed.

He thought moving from West Newbury would be the best thing for him. Being able to leave an old life behind, and obtaining a new one. A new opportunity at life. Yeah, John thought he had a chance at being happy. And he was… if only for a while.

He eyes began to sting, as the wind harshly thrashed about, lashing at his body at every opportunity that presented itself. The wind blew, causing his shirt to float lightly. He shivered as the wind caressed his skin. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision, willing himself not to cry. Those days were over, his tears long since dried out. He couldn't waste another tear, he _wouldn't_.

A single tear escaped his eye, and left a trace running down his face. As soon as it was near his cheek, John stuck his tongue out, lapping at it. Another tear rolled down his face, but soon fell off. It fell down over the edge, where it stayed in a freefall for long. And it kept falling, just like he would. And then it hit the ground, just like he would.

He gave it one last thought, and then he took a step.

Flying. That's what it felt like. Like he was finally free. It felt as if at any moment, he would spread wings and become a bird. Or he'd vanish into thin air and become a part of the wind. Maybe then, his wishes would come true.

His face light up into a bright smile. He felt untouchable. Like nothing could ever happen to him. And for once, he felt happy. Happy that all his problems would finally be resolved. And they'd be inexistent in a little time.

But then he thought of him. He wondered what this would do to him. It probably wouldn't even matter to him. He probably wouldn't even notice. For a while, he was everything John lived for. That smile kept him going for days at a time, though he was sure they weren't for him. Who would be kind to the school fag? Nobody would. That's why he was doing this. Maybe then those other people would stop to think, and realize that words do hurt. And they cut, and sting. And _kill_.

He seemed to fall forever. Endless seconds of not knowing what was going to happen next.

And then as fast as it all started, it ended. He lost his grasp on life, and was welcomed by Death with open arms, as they both departed this cold and cruel dwelling very many people call home. His eyes were open, but they were empty. Emotionless. _Life_less. His face wore a proud smile, that made him look happy. After all, who wouldn't be happy when they'd finally got what they wanted. He wanted to be freed from his ugly life.

Those numbers, those causes, those people who pushed him every day closer to this, they were about to get a shocking wake up call. Those 13 people, they would have to find out, one by one how each and every one of them added up to the cause of his death. The death of John Felix Anthony Cena.

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*2 Weeks Later*

Randy sighed as he walked down the sidewalk which led to his house. His eyes glazed over with pain. The pain you feel after a kind of loss. He didn't know him much, but he wish he had. John was always so happy, smiling, how could he do something like this? Sure, some people at school didn't go the easiest on him, but could that really cause him to kill himself? Was that necessary? It had been two weeks since, but it felt like so much more. He and John had never talked, John never really talked to everyone actually, but the school felt empty without him. He used to scan the crowded hallways every day after math hoping to catch a glance of him. Sometimes he'd watch John at the library, where he stayed every day during lunch, and get tangled up in him. John had the deepest dimples, that made him look so adorable. He'd gotten caught a bunch of times, and every time, something deep inside him felt warm. And so did his face, because it'd get extremely red. And every time that happened, he felt like manning up, and talking to John. But then something would happen, and John would leave.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, that he almost didn't notice the box that was near his door. _Almost_. Curiously, he picked it up. It was addressed to him, but had no return address.

Fishing in his pocket with one hand, Randy produced his keys, and used them to unlock the door. Once inside, he threw his keys on the countertop near the door, and walked to the living room. His parents wouldn't be home for another two and a half hours, so he sat the box down in the middle of the living room and opened it.

The first thing he saw when he opened it was a letter. And it looked like it'd been touched by quite a few people before him.

He fished it out, and quickly unfolded him.

_Reader,_

_Hey all you idiotic assholes. Yup, it's me. And I'm back. Well, not technically, only metaphorically. But that's besides the point. How are you feeling right now? Confused? Dumbstruck? Maybe happy? _Do _you feel happy? Happy to know that you caused this? Oh, what's wrong? Do you _not_ know what I'm talking about? Well, I haven't done it yet, but soon you guys will know what it is I did. But I have a little game for you. _

_Inside the box where you found this letter, is a set of 13 tapes. One for each and every one of you. I just want you to listen to them. Listen to them _all._ Let's see how you feel about yourselves after you do._

_But every game has rules, and this, is no exception. The rules are simple, listen to all of these tapes, _in order_, and then pass them on. Pass them on to the person who comes after you, until all of you have heard the tapes. But wait, what if your tape is number 13, what do you do? Well, you put the tapes back inside the box, seal it, and go to hell for all I care. _

_Now, if you refuse to listen to the tapes, or don't finish, or don't pass them along, I have an accomplice that has a second set of the exact same tapes, and he or she will leak them to the world. And everyone will now how _you_, contributed to this. The _death_ of John Cena._

Randy shivered as he read through the letter once more. A game? What kind of sick joke was this? Who would do such a thing. But another thought gnawed at his head. He had received this box, right? And the letter said there was one tape dedicated to everyone who received the box. So, he _had_ to have contributed to John's suicide in some way. But how? What had he done to John? In all of John's three years in St. Louis, they'd never once interacted. How could he have caused John's death?

Randy fished into the box, pulling out millions of tiny packing nuts, before finding one of the promised cassettes. This one had a red 9 marked on top of it. And while Randy wasn't the best at math, he knew that he should probably start at 1.

When he found the tap marked with a red 1 on the topmost left hand corner, he pulled it out. But then he realized that he had nothing to play the tape on. It was moments like these, when he was glad his father refused to update to modern technology. He walked out into the hallway, and into his father's den. There, he walked over to one of the chests, and pulled out an old, lightweight cassette player.

He attached a pair of ear pods into the audio jack, inserted the tape, and pressed play. A mechanical sound filled his ears as the tape began to play. His ears were assaulted by the voice of John, and he was forced to turn down the sound.

He pressed rewind, and restarted the tape.

_Hey Guys, surprised? I bet you guys are. No, you're not dreaming. It's really me, John Cena, the school _fag_. Yeah, you thought you had all gotten rid of me, didn't you? Well, sucks to be one of you right now. Oh how scared must you be right now. Scared that everyone else would find out those secrets you held so close to yourself in fear of anyone finding out. Don't worry, I'll make sure they _all _find out. By the time this is done, every single person on my list will know what you have done. _Now, _it's time to be scared. _

Randy smiled at the sound of John's voice. It put him at ease, and he felt relaxed. A huge weight had just been pulled off of his shoulders.

_Just in case you decided to skip the rules because you can't read, yes you Maryse, let's quickly go over them. _

Randy shuddered at the sound of John's voice, which was laced with a strong poison.

_Um… where do I start? For one, this game has to be played to the end. If not, there will be consequences. Meaning, if someone doesn't finish all of the tapes, then all of them will be leaked out to the public, where they will slander and murder your future before it's even gotten started. Well, obviously, you have started on the right tape, if this one is the first you are reading. Start at Tape 1, and continue to listen to the rest in numerical order. When you're done, pass them on to the owner of the tape after yours. But be careful, with every passing tape, your chances of being number 13 get bigger. If you're number 13, read the tapes, and then burry them, burn them, or better yet, rot with them._

The voice Randy was hearing seemed foreign to him. He knew it was John's voice because he recognized it as so, but the tone was certainly new. The voice seemed to harbour so much hate. Far more hate than John should've ever harboured.

_But let's cut to the chase. Yes, the first person in the series of 13. Wondering if that's you? What if it is? You could either set this game rolling, or you could end here, and risk everyone finding out. I suggest you start the game. Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation would we now, _Mickie Laree.

Randy gasped, he'd known Mickie for such a long time. She seemed so sweet and kind. What could she have possibly done to John?

Randy felt lost, and was left without words. In his possession, he could possibly find out the worst thing he ever could. How he had contributed to the removal of John from the face of the earth. He didn't know whether he could deal with it or not.

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So how did you like this first chapter? I'm currently undecided on whether I should update daily, or weekly. And also on whether I should write 14 or 15 chapters. One chapter per tape, and one in the end to show how Randy's life changed and or didn't.

Also, I have to ask if you guys would like me to continue the story idea.

Reviews are always welcome.

XOXO, SaluteMeImLuis


	2. Piggy James

**Thank you for the reviews, and the favorites and follows, you guys are awesome.**

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Chapter 2. Piggy James

Mickie Laree was the nicest girl Randy could think of. Not to mention smartest. She was always getting the highest marks in her exams, and the only person who had ever gotten the same or higher than her was John. She seemed to be his only friend for the two years he was at the Academy. Well, used to. Randy didn't know why, but some time around the beginning of the year, he stopped seeing them together. Guess he was about to find out why.

_Yeah, that's right. 'Piggy James' was my friend. __**Best**__ of friends actually. Weren't we Mickie? Are you mad yet? Mad that I just blew your cover? You didn't want anyone to find out we were friends, did you? Did you, Mickie? __**Best friend**__, where you really that?_

_Well, if you're wondering, Mickie is on the list because… well, simply put, she's the bitch that started it all. She's the one who started this whole process of me destroying myself. And you know why, Mickie. You remember why, don't you?_

_Guys, in order for you to understand, I have to start from the beginning. From my first day at the Academy. You see, I remember that day perfectly fine, unlike you _Neanderthals _who probably don't even remember what you had for breakfast this morning. So yeah, I walked into the Academy, and I did my best to act confident. But all that came down in ruins when I didn't know where to go. I didn't know what to do, who to call, and it ended up with me in the Office, being disciplined for 'Skipping Class.' Don't think bad of me, that was a mistake the Office soon realized._

_You guys are probably wondering what Mickie has to do with any of this. Well, this is where she comes in. While Dr. Flair decided what my punishment would be, this very nicely dressed girl came in. She was wearing a sparkly blue and grey outfit that day. Weren't you Mick? Yeah, we were so close I call her Mick, but that's besides the point. So in walks Mickie, and she sits down in the farthest seat she could from me. I found that totally awkward, considering there was about another 15 chairs to chose from. So I said something about it._

_Remember Mick? How I made you laugh when I said I didn't bite. Then you walked over to me, and you said I made it 'super obvious' that I was new because I kept fidgeting, and nervously glancing at the back room. You were so nice to me then. _

_You walked me to my third block class, and after that I didn't see you again until fourth block, when you walked into my class and made an excuse to pull me out. That's when our friendship really started. After that, the two months were a blur. We'd spend fortnights at the other's house. I used to stay over at your place so much, it was basically my home away from home._

_But remember that one night, when we got home from a party drunk, and I had to help you sneak in? We shared a lot of secrets that night. Secrets that I wish I could've kept to myself, looking back. Remember how I told you I was _gay_? _

_Remember how you _"_didn't care, because it doesn't matter as long as we're best friends'? What happened to that attitude? You made me feel so secure, and you reassured me that we'd still be friends. I felt terrible about not telling you sooner, but every time I would gather the courage to tell you, you'd randomly speak out terrible things about homosexuality and homosexuals. I don't know why you did it. Did you do it because you could already tell I was gay?_

_The answer to that, I'll probably never know. But that, ladies and gentlemen, _isn't _why Mickie is the first on this list. The real reason, in fact, is coming out right now. God, I can practically hear you squirming in your seat, as you wait for me to expose you, you fat bitch._

Randy shivered at John's words. Again, they seemed so foreign, and distant from John's natural tone. What could Mickie have done to make John refer to her in such a way? Randy's sweet little John.

Just as John was about to start talking again, a commotion in the kitchen alerted Randy to the fact that his Mother had just gotten home.

"Hey, Mum!" Randy yelled out from the living room, greeting his mother.

"Hello, Randall, dear," she said, walking into the living room and taking a seat near the fireplace. "What's in that box?"

Randy suddenly felt cold. What was he supposed to tell his Mum about the box. He couldn't just say 'oh nothing, John only just made some tapes before he died explaining the reason behind his suicide and has everyone on his list listening to them.'

"I dunno, reckon it's something to do with the new Master of Science in school, I heard a couple other students saying they'd got it as well." Randy didn't like lying to his mother, and when he did, he felt horrible. What kind of son wouldn't?

"Well, go freshen up, dear, I've got some tea warming up," Elaine said to him.

"No thanks, Mum," Randy declined her invitation. "Actually, could you give me some time on my own tonight? I'd like to get through whatever is in the box," he explained.

Turning his back on his mum, Randy felt guilty. Guilty of lying to his mum. But what would she say when she found out Randy had partially been a cause of their neighbor's son's suicide?

Randy walked up the stairs, and rounded the corner to his room. When he got in, he gently set the box down, and turned to lock the door. He didn't want anyone to barge in on him listening to the tapes.

He pressed the play button on the small radio, and waited for John's voice to start again.

After a series of mechanical clicks and strange noises, Randy's ears were filled with John's soothing voice, and he was transported.

_After that night, you began avoiding me, my texts, and my IMs. I didn't know what I had done wrong. I spent a week beating myself over the fact that I had done something to cause my best friend to abandon me. I felt so stupid and useless. And I didn't even know why you stopped talking to me._

_And then I remembered our conversation. _All_ of it. I remembered every agonizing second of it. From the beginning, to the end. That's when I told you who I liked. And I guess you liked him too, because you went and gave me the cold shoulder._

_And then you went and told everyone else, Mickie. Why'd you do that, Mickie? Went and told my biggest secret to everyone, just because we liked the same guy? Mickie, me and him would never be together, you knew that. Why would mister Tall, tan and handsome want to date a guy?_

Randy perked himself up at those words. It might've just been his ego, but Randy felt like John's words described him perfectly. But of course, he had a big ego, and they might've been referring to someone else. Besides, Mickie had never shown any interest in him.

_For the smallest of reasons, you destroyed my life, Mickie. Do you know how bad I had it? Getting constant threats out of many other performers just for the fun of it. Nobodies who wanted to make themselves popular at the Academy by picking on me._

_But remember what else was said that night? I wouldn't be surprised if you don't, you were pretty wasted. But you did say something, and I bet by now you must know what I am talking about, Mickie. _

_When was the last time you tasted your finger, _Mickie?

Realization had dawned upon Randy. He pieced up two and two together. But was he right? He couldn't be. Mickie wasn't like that. Was she? She'd been in the same class as his for the past 6 years, at some point the was bound to have noticed. But then again, they'd never really talked before. How would he know?

_You see, everyone, Mickie is bulimic. And for those of you who aren't smart enough to understand this rather big word, yes you, Maryse. A bulimic person is one who eats, to make themselves throw up minutes afterward. _

_Mick, I had my suspicions way before you told me. It registered the night before, when we went out to Wendy's and you excused yourself to the bathroom three minutes afterwards. But why, Mickie? Do you not feel pretty around those other girls at the Academy? Those pretty little dancers, with the dancer's bodies? It must've been hard competing for a guys attention against girls that weighed nearly half your own. _

_Mickie has bulimia. She used to eat, and eat, and eat. Hell, she ate more than Mark Henry, yet she was scared to put on a few more pounds. She felt that one hundred and thirty pounds were too much. So right after she was done eating, she would run to the bathroom, and shove her finger far down her throat. Provoking the vomit to come up. Well, Mickie, have fun damaging your esophagus. Not to mention your throat, teeth and mouth. _

_So next time any of you girls go to the bathroom after lunch, check the stalls. You might catch her in the act._

Randy sat on his bed in shock. Who was this guy? It certainly wasn't John. John would never do anything like this. It was like he was trying to torture them all. Not knowing what was going to be said about him ate at him. He'd never done anything bad to anyone, what could he be exposed for.

At that moment, every bad thing he ever did came racing through his mind. John didn't know about him losing his virginity to Stacey Keibler in the back of his truck, did he? Impossible, that was a month or two before John came.

The static came back onto his ear pods, and Randy once again listened to John's voice as it talked.

_But that's enough of you, Mickie. Feel free to go to the bathroom now. I know you've been dying to do it since I started talking. _

_I'm actually done talking about you, Mickie. It's time for the next person on this list. Dolph Mother-Fucking Ziggler. The pretty boy. I can almost hear you writhe, Dolph. Scared something might be let out?_

_Oh don't worry, it will._

A high pitched noise emitted from the ear pods, and Randy could hear John laughing maniacally. His laugh was so cold, and mean, and terrible.

Randy gets up from his bed, and walks up to the bathroom. His bare feet slap against the cold tiles as he makes his way closer to the sink. He turns the tap on, and cups a bit of water in his hands. Slowly, he brings it up to his face, and splashes himself. He really needed it. The next couple of days were going to be hell for him. Having to hear the nasty things people did to John. His perfect John. But most of all, he was scared. Scared to find out his number. What if he was Number 13? The number that sealed the deal for John. He couldn't live with that. He couldn't live knowing that he might've been the cause of John's death.

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**What do we think Dolph did? Leave your ideas in the comments below.**


	3. The Show Stopper

Mr. DZ

Randy stopped as he reached over the box to pull out the next tape. Did he really want to do this? Did he _really_ want to find out all these secrets? Dirt on other people. Dirt that also belonged to him in a way. And then he decided he did. For John. Because John wanted them all to experience this. Wasn't that the reason that he'd sent out the tapes in the first place? So that they could all snap out of their worlds and realize that words had meanings to them. And actions could be the difference between life and death? He felt for John. And he wished he could've done more for him. To maybe have kept him alive.

Randy grabbed the tape, and put it in place. His long fingers searched for the play button, and pressed it.

Again, static emitted from his headphones, followed by the sound of John taking a deep breath.

_Hey, again. I've been thinking about it._

John's voice was full of sorrow, and it sounded _nothing_ like the voice from the previous two tapes. It seemed like he was shuffling in his seat because muffled sounds were coming from his end.

_You know, it's crazy thinking about this. Once upon a time I felt just fine. I used to be so happy all the time. And it's sad that bitter fucks like you ruined this whole life thing for me. I've been contemplating how I'm going to do this. Up until now, I hadn't given it much thought. I just thought the idea was going to just pop into my head when it was about to happen. _

_Anyways, back to the subject, Dolph. I'll keep this one short because knowing you, Dolph, you'll like all this attention. Good or bad, you've always loved the attention, haven't you Dolph. You've always just fed off of the crowd as they __**screamed**__ and __**chanted**__ your name up in the seats as you did your little football things. Anyone else would've thought you were America's Little Sweetheart. Hell, even I believed it for a while. But that's not true, is it, Dolph? You're just as bitter and lonely as I am, aren't you? Any regular person would've just joined me, and befriended me, you know, since we felt the same way. But you just __**hated**__ the thought of being associated with a fag. It's not right in your Christian little household. You were raised to frown down upon the subject. _

_But I don't think they taught you to hurt __**fags**__. Because that's against you Beliefs, isn't it? Aren't you supposed to be a nice, sweet, little Catholic, Dolph? Isn't violence frowned upon in your little home? Especially to innocent people?_

_What did I do that night, Dolph? What did I do to get you so worked up and angry? Do you even remember that night? I suppose you don't, seeing as you were drunk. I could __**smell**__ the alcohol on your breath. And boy did your breath wreak of it. You must've been way over the Legal Limit. Scratch that, you weren't even old enough to be drinking in the first place. _

_Well, I __**do**__ remember that night. I remember everything about it. We weren't too far from the park when it happened. It was dark, a little past two in the morning, and I was just sitting down on the swings. I wasn't with anyone, but I wasn't alone either. You were there in the park __**too**__. Remember that? You walked in so drunk you were tripping over your own shadow. _

_I'm a nice guy. And if anyone had given me a chance, they would've known that too. And nice guys usually do their best to help other people. And I did try. I tried to help you get home safe. Because, you know, it's what __**nice**__ guys do._

_I remember carefully walking over to you so I wouldn't startle you. And when I reached you, you were too drunk to even form coherent sentences. But you managed to talk. If only to yell at me. Slurring over your own words, you said some things. Do you remember them? Huh? Do you remember telling me to 'get the __**fuck**__ away from you,' and that you didn't need help 'from a __**fucking**__ fairy'? I tried to calm you down. _

_I don't know what went wrong that night. I hadn't done anything to you, except maybe try to help you, but that was about it. I should've __**known**__ not to turn my back on you. You were yelling at me, and telling me to let go of you. Saying that you weren't trying to 'catch no gay desease,' and that you were 'too handsome to be gay,' and that chicks totally digged you. And in the midst of it all, you had dropped something. I let go of you for one moment and turned around to grab whatever had fallen. And before I could get up, you kicked me. Kicked me down. And when I fell, you kicked me again. And again, and again, and again. And you didn't stop after that. You continued to verbally, physically, and emotionally assault me. Yelling obscenities at me. That I was a 'waste of fucking space,' and how the 'world would be so much better without [me] polluting it.' Because you were so scared that addressing me would turn you gay that you didn't even say my name, or another pronoun to replace it. _

Randy could hear John's voice quiver, and he knew John was on the verge of crying. He felt his blood boiling at the image of that night. What could bring someone to physically hurt someone that way? Was it because John was gay?

The thought scared Randy. He knew he was more popular than John, and that more people feared him, but would all that change if Randy came out as well. Would they all think of him different. Maybe think of him without his masculinity?

Then he heard the first. Then the second. And then he could hear John completely breaking down. John was crying on the other side of the tape, and it was eating away at Randy. He felt so guilty and beat down because no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to comfort John, and hold him the way he so wanted to do now. He couldn't wake up from a terrible dream and look out his window to see John's light on. Because one thing he was always thankful for was John's family moving in the house directly in front of his own.

John took a minute to calm down, and cleared his voice before speaking again.

_Sorry about that. It's just so sad how one can reduce themselves to such a low level to do such a thing. But remember the scar I had over my right eye for months? Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't. But if you do. I'd just like to let you guys know it was Dolph who did it. He wasn't satisfied with kicking me into a fetal position, scared for my life, and decided he'd go for my face as well. Was it so people could see how manly you were? Was that the reason you decided to take that rock and try bashing it in my face? Or was it the fact that I tried to save myself by fighting back. I'm not proud of laying my hands on you, but when you were trying to end my life, I felt like I had no other choice. It was either fight back, or die at that point._

_And strangely, after you hit me with that rock, and you saw the blood gushing from my forehead, you bolted. You just ran for your life. Just left me there on the ground, __**struggling**__ to get up. And I knew I couldn't go home. Home, where I'd get asked so many questions. But I had to. I had to go and clean myself, disinfect my cuts. And when I got home, try as I might, I wasn't able to avoid my mom and had to lie. I hate lying, but I had to. I lied and said I threw a rock, and it bounced back and hit me. Since the only visible thing was the scar above me eye._

_That, Dolph, is why you're on my list. For brutally beating me for being who I was. Something I couldn't change about myself._

_So, Dolph, in exchange for that, I think I should do something to hurt you. Maybe I'll tell the remaining 12 people on this tape a secret of yours. You know, since you aren't perfect._

_I studied you for a bit after that, and your actions gave me the intuition that maybe you are, and always have been, afraid of being alone. __**That's**__ the reason you put yourself out there whenever you can. Because you're scared, that tomorrow will come and everyone will forget your name. Just like all the other washed up stars at the Academy. _

_There you have it. That's my tape on Dolph. It came a little longer than expected, but things don't always go the way you want. Your welcome, Dolph, for the publicity. I'll assure you they wont forget you today, tomorrow, overmorrow. I assure you, you'll be in their minds for quite some time. As they think about the animosity that threatened to come over the Academy's precious Dolph Ziggler. _

Randy didn't know what to think. He was outright mad at Dolph for his actions. Mad at himself again for not stopping it. He knew about John's scar. He'd seen it after it happened at school. He'd made attempts to talk to John about it, but time always seamed to escape him.

Randy sighed. If only he had time. He knew it was a bullshit excuse because he could've, and should've made time. He just never did.

"Dinner's ready!" Randy heard his Mother call. He couldn't have been happier to have a distraction in his life. Having someone to talk to would clear so many things up for him. He could let so much off his chest.

"Coming, Mum," he yelled back, softly.

He pushed himself off the bed, and made his way down. He greeted his mother, and sat down on the table.

Halfway through dinner, Randy's dad excused himself from the event, and Randy took the opportunity to ask his mother.

"Mum?" he questioned, barely loud enough, but enough so that she could hear him.

"Yes, Ran?"

"Do you think that maybe… maybe we could've prevented the whole John incident?"

Elaine shifted in her seat a little uncomfortable at the death topic being brought up in her dinning room. "What do you mean, Ran?""I dunno, that maybe if anyone had said something to him, he wouldn't have ended his life?"

"Randy…" Elaine said with a sigh. "He wasn't right for quite some time. Sick in the head.""Sick in the head? How so?"

"Don't know. Heard it being said amongst other parents around the block. They all made it seem like he was dangerous. And judging the way they talked about him, he was too far along the road to be saved." Elaine got up, and grabbed the plates. She put them in the sink, and turned the tap to let the water pour out.

"Why the topic all of a sudden, Randy?"

"Nothing. Just thinking that maybe someone could've helped him… is all."

* * *

Many thanks the the people who have favorited/followed this story. Thank you to the ones that have viewed, and to the ones who have reviewed.

And also, to the people who have Private Messaged me asking what the Academy is. It's like a regular High School, only people who wish to be dancers/singers/artists and performers attend it.

I'm sorry if I offended anyone for the Christian things in this chapter. I am not attempting to offend anyone with this. Just based it off of some encounters with Christian people. And yes, I know not all Christian people are like this.

SaluteMeImLuis


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